Screwball A Virgin, A Threesome, And A Reconcili...

Screwball: A Virgin, a Threesome (MFM), and a Reconciliation [a story adapted from real life]

"I don't believe it. I just don't believe it." Kate, my estranged wife, never trusted me, but now in the midst of this phone call--about our least favorite topic, sex--she has ratcheted up her doubt.

She thinks she knows me. She should know me. We were husband and wife for five long years--long enough so that sex usually came as a surprise. We grew up in the same small town in New Jersey, one of those places where you knew too much about everybody else. We went to the same school, served on Student Council together, and I was one of her first crushes. She would come to my Junior Babe Ruth baseball games in 7th grade just to watch me play, and I lost my virginity as a kisser before her eyes in a group scene (a game of spin-the-bottle at Nancy Cole's 13th birthday party). But she never knew, until this phone call, when--or how--I had lost my real virginity. I never thought I would tell Kate--or any woman--this doubly dark sexual secret of mine.

I can't remember exactly what led up to my confession. I was calling Kate from my office in the History Department where I had been working late, past dinner time. We must have been talking, for the 71st time, about what went wrong with our marriage. Fortunately, at this point, the anger between us had mostly dissipated. We were no longer just blaming each other for what went wrong. I think I was acknowledging to her how unprepared I was for marriage. My relationship with Kate was the first significant relationship of my life. She told me more than once, after we split up, that she wished I had been broken in by another woman. She knew I had almost no girlfriends before her. She did not know how innocent I was (I didn't lose my virginity until age 24) ....or how devilish I had been (I lost it in a threesome with another couple whom I had contacted through a Swinger's magazine). Over the phone, I tempted her with a bite of the apple.

"You will never guess how I lost my virginity? It's a dark secret...and a little kinky."

"OK. Come on. Give me a hint," she urged.

"The woman was older," I noted.

"That's it?" Kate inquired. "What's so strange or dark about an older woman? Was she senile? Or just fat and desperate?"

"Very funny, Kate. Hey, I like it when that sharp tongue of yours pokes fun at me rather than stabbing me with anger. The woman was married."

"Ok, that's different...but not kinky."

"Well, I didn't exactly commit adultery with her."

"Not exactly? "What do you mean, 'Not exactly'?"

"It was technically adultery, but not really," I explained in a Clintonesque way. "It was something else."

"Something else?"

"Yes, something kinky. This you'll never guess."

"Give me another hint."

"The husband knew all about it," I confessed.

Kate paused before answering. "Now that does make it more interesting. Was it an open marriage?"

"Yes, very open....very, very open. He was there."

"He watched you?"

Kate was incredulous, and I loved it. For whatever reason, it delighted me that she didn't know me as well as she thought she did. And I had more for her to disbelieve. I took a deep breath and added, "Yes, ....and he participated."

"It's even kinkier," I said in a quieter voice. "We did it altogether, everything mixed up, entangled. He and she and me.... every which way. I had sex with him as well. I played with his cock. He played with mine."

"I don't believe it. I don't believe it..... You gotta be kidding."

"Kate, look, I'm being straight with you. I lost my virginity just several months before we began dating....in a threesome....We all played together all night long and into the next afternoon. It was wild and very erotic....intensely erotic."

"C'mon Jim, quit playing your games with me. You really expect me to believe this? Little Jimmy Lindstrom, Captain of the Safety Patrol, President of his 8th grade class, All Star Little League player, and son of Mrs. Prim and Proper Martha Lindstrom, lost his virginity in a threesome and did something bisexual? Your Mother would die if she knew. I just don't believe it."

"I'm not joking, Kate. It's true."

"You're just pulling my leg again, I know it. I don't trust you about anything."

"You devil, you. You little devil," Kate charged. "Oh god, you are a rascal..... You're got me blushing. You have to show me this stuff."

"When?"

"Now, right now," said Kate, her voice intensifying in seriousness as she spoke. "As soon as you can get here. I have to see this. I can't believe this. I'm getting aroused by this."

I hung up the phone bewildered and bemused, repeating again and again to myself her last line to make it sink it. I'd admitted the truth to my almost ex-wife, and it felt great.... I hadn't been struck down by lightning. I'd confessed to fooling around with another man. I had never been embarrassed about it. In truth, I was very proud of it: It was the most erotic 24 hours of my life, and I liked being something of a rebel. But I never expected to share this secret with Kate....or with anyone. And she hadn't yet condemned me. Indeed, she seemed allured.

I turned the light out in my office and, before I left, I sat in my chair, reminiscing in the dark, gliding my hand over the bulge in my jeans, taking joy in feeling aroused and cockstrong. I walked out of the office smiling deeply to myself. Again, it felt so good to surprise Kate when she thought she had me all figured out. She loved reading mystery novels. Now, I thought to myself, I am her mystery..... The sound of her voice at the end of our conversation kept reverberating in my ear. To my hungry ear, it was the music of a voice scaling down to the guttural...the voice of a woman feeling her cunt moisten. My mind flashed with images of Kate's face relaxing into a smile after the intense bliss of an orgasm.....the moment when she always looked her most beautiful.

I remember driving back to my apartment quickly, delighted that the flow of traffic on the freeway was smooth. I found the evidence that would prove my guilt in an envelope, which I kept hidden at the bottom of my treasure box of letters on my bureau. I then headed to my wife's apartment about a mile away. Kate buzzed me into her building and greeted me at the top of the stairs. She had the look on her face of a woman trying to scold a child for something that also made her laugh.

"Hi, James," she returned, using my full name with mock formality. "You better have something real good for me."

"Well, dear, I might have what you're looking for. I hope it passes muster. You're not an easy mark. But I think it's pretty good," I deadpanned.

I handed her the envelope with the evidence inside of it. She rolled her eyes at me, playfully. She put it aside. Kate was still cleaning up after dinner. Our young daughter, Annika, age 3, was in her bedroom. I went in to look for her so I could read her some stories and put her to bed.

I thought to myself, quietly, that this joy--of putting my child to sleep each night--is what I miss most.

I read several stories to Annika, kissed her goodnight, and I came into the kitchen feeling wonderfully naughty. Kate eyed me suspiciously, and then offered me a glass of wine. I accepted. She poured a glass for each of us and then left for a moment to say goodnight to Annika. Breathing deeply, I remained seated at the small table in a corner of the kitchen, more than a little anxious underneath my cool pose. The envelope sat there in the middle of the table, smoldering. When Kate came back into the kitchen, we made efforts at small talk. But we were as fidgety as chain smokers trying to quit. After a while, Kate checked back in on Annika. She came back soon and whispered, "She's asleep." Kate picked up the envelope and took it along with her glass of wine into the living room. I followed her. We sat down across from each other, Kate in a chair and me on the couch.

The tension in the room was as hot and thick with sweat as a mid-August day in New Jersey when you long for a thunderstorm to cut the humidity. It felt weird and wonderful. Deep inside I was rumbling in thunder, and bolts of chain lighting were charging through my cock. It had been ages since Kate and I had felt--or generated for the other--any of the thrill, the magic, the mystery that sex can possess at its core. But now this primal force of sex was swirling around inside of me more powerfully than the first time we got naked and slippery together. Ben and Rowena, the couple who took my virginity, awakened me to the alchemy of eros in a way that seared deeply into my memory. And now, for the first time with Kate, I was unlocking the vault.

We finished our wine, sipping it down faster than usual. I opened the envelope and gave Kate the first piece of evidence: the ad in the swinger's magazine that I responded to with a picture of Rowena's face. Kate scanned it quickly, but noted each detail.

"She's beautiful......and just your type, a dark brunette....maybe Italian. But her nose is a little long and her eyes are wide apart.... But I can see her allure."

I handed her my next bit of evidence: the letter Rowena wrote me in response to my thank you note after the visit. I must have read this letter hundreds of times, and I had the best parts memorized: "Our weekend together was an extraordinary erotic occasion for us as well....one of our best times ever. We usually prefer to play with other couples, but we had so much fun with you. We got back into bed as soon as you left. We loved your enthusiasm, and we haven't stopped talking about that great cock of yours. We too would enjoy the chance to get together again."

As she read the letter, I examined her face as if my eyes were seismographs that could sense her shifts of mood. I half expected her to forego looking at any more evidence and just proclaim her verdict of me, right then and there: Guilty as presumed. I was not sure how she would react about my bisexual playing. But as she read the letter, the quizzical look on her face gave way to bemusement. I smiled back, and she just rolled her eyes at me again. Her expression relaxed me some, but I still felt on the defensive.

Our past made me want to snatch the letter from Kate's hands so I could read Rowena's words aloud, with the proper tone and emphasis, highlighting Rowena's compliments. The last year of our marriage had been humiliating for me, sexually: Kate had almost no interest in sex, and when we did make love, she seldom, if ever, came. I felt a failure in the bedroom, with my cock shriveled up like a prune sitting at the bottom of an old box in the closet. But right there in the living room, revisiting my time with Ben and Rowena, I felt new life, new strength: the resurrection of my cock. It was fully arisen in my jeans. My mind scanned image after image of Ben and Rowena taking delight in my cock....its size, the way it kept unfurling for their pleasure, the way it responded to them so enthusiatically. And I remembered it behaving the same way for Kate in our first months together. This thought took me out of my reverie. I still had more compelling evidence to show her.

I handed Kate the first of four photos: It was of Rowena in black lace lingerie, stretched out on a bed, the covers pulled back, pillows all around. Candles were lit on a bedside table, and there was one of those big Hitachi vibrators on the floor. Rowena's eyes blazed straight up at the camera: "Come hither and fuck me," they said. She had one hand caressing a bosom, and the fingers of her other hand slipped down inside her panties. This was the picture Ben and Rowena had sent me in their first response to my letter to them. It conjured up a funny memory about my innocence.

"Their ad requested a picture," I explained. "It sounds so ridiculous now, but I sent them my high school graduation photo. They wrote back and said they liked my letter a lot, but they wanted an explicit photo....a hard cock shot. I quickly bought a Polaroid camera and did some self-portraits. When they got those photos, they invited me up. They did like that cock of mine. When we had breakfast together, they teased me about my photo. They loved it that I was so innocent....an Adam in the garden with a great big dick behind a fig leaf."

Kate and I laughed together about the photo. We had never talked dirty or explicitly together. I had tried to get her to talk about her favorite times fucking--and her favorite cocks--but she was shy about that stuff. About size, she would just say, "It's not the meat, but the motion." Our laughter about my innocence loosened us up. I was feeling sexy, seductive, cockstrong. I also knew what pictures were coming next.

I showed Kate the first of three Polaroid photos that Ben took, each one quite explicit. The first was of Rowena sucking my cock; the second of Rowena riding my cock; and the third of me taking Rowena from behind, doggie-style. I had only looked at each picture a thousand or more times.

Kate studied each one, shaking her head as she looked at the evidence and then at me. I tried to put on a nonchalant face, but I was smiling deep inside, almost chortling to myself in an adolescent way, as the photos showed off beautifully the power and thickness of my cock. Kate made another comment or two about Rowena's shapely figure. She then went strangely silent on me. She got up from the couch as if she'd seen enough. "Damn," I said to myself. I thought the night might end.

Then she whispered, "Don't go away."

Kate walked back towards her bedroom. I wondered to myself what was going on with her. It was a very strange night. She was gone an agonizingly short time. I had a million things going through my mind. When she came back, all uncertainty was lost. Utter disbelief replaced it. She entered the living room sexed up, wearing a sheepish look on her face and not much else: a black camisole and French cut black Jockey underpants, the sexiest lingerie I had bought her during our marriage.

"Here's the night you've been asking for," she declared.

Ever since she asked me for a divorce, I had been making a special request: Could we sleep together one last time so we could end the marriage on a harmonious note--a celebration of our best times together? Kate always resisted the idea. She could never just fuck. She needed a heart-connection. Her body was closed off to me. But now, thank God, I guess my little act of deviltry had possessed her. Her change in attire caved in my fixed impression of her, like at the ending of "Grease," when the good girl in the cardigan sweater reappears attired in black leather. My body and mind began to shift into a new mode. Coursing through me was all the magic and energy that comes when the prowl succeeds, when a man knows for certain that a woman wants him....that she will spread open for him....

I began thinking of my first time with Kate. I had been shy with her. We had been on a few dates and we had not gone beyond a kiss. We watched a baseball game together, and when the game ended, we began hugging each other. Kate made the first move, feeling me up through my jeans. That was all the signal I needed. I began fumbling around stripping off her jeans, then going down on her with her blouse still on. I was uncertain about what I was doing, but I was enthusiastic, and Kate helped me out, thrusting her pussy up against my still, stiff tongue to take herself to an orgasm that left her squeezing my head between her legs. We went back into the bedroom, stripped off our clothes, and began kissing each other in the bed. I was too anxious to get hard. We never fucked that night. We never said anything about what was going on (a silence about sexual problems that became not untypical). When we woke up together, I was hard. We began fucking, and we kept fucking....making love three times before Kate had to leave for work, an hour or two late. When I walked out of her apartment the next morning to catch a bus through Central Park to my apartment cross-town, the entire city--the entire world--seemed transformed in my eyes. I never felt anything like it again until our first child was born.

You can never imagine where things might go when a woman is willing to spread open for you. I could not stop now to contemplate the implications of what Kate had done, but with that one sight of her, sexed up, all my frustration with her began giving way to forgiveness...and a pulsing, throbbing imagination.

Kate joined me on the couch, but sat back at the opposite end from me, with her legs up on the couch, slightly spread.

"OK, James, I want the complete story...all the details....a full confession."

"Do I get immunity?"

"Yes, but make it good. You've got me very wet."

A surge of erotic energy coursed through me. I had never heard Kate use that expression before. It excited me tremendously. What she did next took the rest of my breath away. She spread her legs open. I looked. She closed them up coyly. I looked back at her eyes. She opened up her legs again. This time I kept looking at her face. She had a devilish smile on her. She knew she had me hook, line, and sinker. But she wanted more play out of me. As I started to talk, she slipped her fingers underneath her panties. I stopped talking.

"Go on," she said slyly. "Keep talking."

I started to talk again, but Kate paid me no attention. She was taking herself deep into her sex: her eyes closed, her head arched back, her fingers pleasuring herself. I had never watched Kate masturbate before. I was transfixed. Her fingers snuggled underneath her panties like kittens under warm laundry. Her eyes remained closed. She began smiling to herself. Maybe she had found a particular sweet spot....or maybe she was thinking about how she was torturing me. She opened her eyes widely, innocently, as if her hand had never been in the cookie jar. She focused her attention back on me, and I began telling my story again.

"Wait a minute," she interrupted. "I want you to taste something."

She slipped her fingers out of her underpants, and offered them to my mouth. She penetrated me with one finger, then two. I grabbed her by the wrist and held her hand still, so I could fellate each finger. I wanted to regain my advantage. I wanted to get her more turned on than she had gotten me. I kissed and licked each finger up and down, sucking them in deep. I took them and spread her fingers wide apart. I tongued vigorously the crotch at the base of her fingers. I knew her body was as much a parched desert as mine was. I knew that kissing her fingers was making her pussy more moist than an oasis. I kept pressing my advantage. She pulled her fingers back.

"Go on with your story, now, honey." Her sweet talk was funny. She never called me honey except sarcastically. Her tongue had wonderful tartness to it. She and I both loved all those old screwball comedies of the 1930s with fast talking, quick witted women like Katherine Hepburn in "Bringing Up Baby" and "Philadelphia Story." I wanted more of that tart tongue.

She slipped her fingers back down her panties. My mind was screaming at me to strip them off of her. My cock was screaming at me to unleash it from my pants and flaunt it before her eyes. "Down, boy," I said to myself.

"Go on," said Kate, as her eyes challenged me to resume the story. "Tell me more." I accepted the challenge. I started talking quickly. Kate repositioned herself, sliding herself down the couch. She spread her legs more open. Smiling some, moaning slightly, she kept teasing herself....and me.

"I got to their place around 4:00 pm. I was so nervous the night before I barely slept. I had been keyed up for over a week. The anticipation was agonizing. When we met, they tried to put me at ease. It could have been a conversation at a church social. We talked about their dog. They showed me their garden. I saw a guitar, so we talked about music. Rowena then cooked us a nice dinner of chicken and rice as we kept chatting. After dessert, they took me upstairs and showed me my bed for the night....and some marijuana growing in their attic. I was never certain, as we talked, about what might happen next. I went with the flow. No one mentioned sex."

I started to talk again. Kate stopped. She reached over and unbuckled my belt and unzipped my jeans. She gave my bulge a little squeeze and then sat back against the couch.

"OK, big boy, continue," she directed.

"We cleaned up the dinner dishes and headed into the living room. Ben lit a fire. We gathered around it. I got hopeful. The fire made it feel more erotic. Ben took a joint out of his pocket, and boy was I glad to get in some tokes. The dope took effect quickly. I got the buzz on, and we all got giggly. Rowena whispered something in Ben's ear, and he nodded. Rowena got up and brought back a photo album. She told me it would help me understand their sexuality. The mention of the word sex set off alarm bells in my head. Oh my God, I was so excited. I felt I was going to get real lucky that night. The first few pictures were tame....G-rated stuff. But it began heating up. There were some Playboy-like pics featuring Rowena in lingerie or half-naked. Then came the Penthouse/Hustler stuff: Rowena nude, spread open, playing with herself, and pictures of Ben with a hard-on and of the two of them sucking and fucking each other and a few of Rowena with another woman. Rowena played with me. She asked me if I liked their photo album. Only a blind man might have said no. I squeaked out a yes. They then conferred together. Rowena left the room. I could feel my heart thumping. Ben turned down the lights. He spread a comforter down on the rug before the fireplace. He sat down on it, and motioned me to join him. I don't know if I had ever been so excited in my life. Kate, I can't really describe it now. I felt in such a strange frame of mind. I had no reason to fantasize anymore. Reality for the first time in my life was better than fantasy."

I took a last gulp of my wine. Kate reached over and began unbuttoning my shirt. I helped her with the buttons to speed it up. She tugged down on my jeans at the waist. I pulled them off. My cock strained up against my boxers like a tent pole. We said nothing to each other. I continued my account.

"Rowena returned with a tape player and music. She began dancing and stripping to 'Saturday Night Fever' music. Every time she took off something, she made us take off something. She took her time. It was incredibly erotic...far beyond what I fantasized. It was like "Penthouse" magazine come to life. After dancing for fifteen minutes, she still had on her bra and g-string panties while we were down to our boxers. She took forever to remove her bra. I was pulsing with excitement."

"Wait a moment," Kate interrupted.

She removed her bra and began playing with her nipples, looking at me very slyly. We each knew what was happening now. We were playing our own game, and it was in the fourth quarter. We were each trying to out-tease the other, me with my words and Kate with her flesh, her body. Kate had small bosoms; she was very flat. She had been teased about her flatness as a young teenager and was still somewhat embarrassed by them. But now she was exposing them to me as if she had dream bosoms: not large, but beautiful, firm, sexy bosoms. She teased each nipple to full ripeness, looking down in admiration at their responsiveness.

"You are a beautiful woman," I whispered to her. Then it was my turn to tease again. I started speaking slowly.

"Rowena lit up each of her tits.....perking up each of her nipples, making them tight and taut."

Kate wet her finger in her mouth and began circling each nipple, as if taking a wet finger around a champagne glass to make it hum. I didn't say anything. I just watched and began almost unconsciously playing with my own nipples.

"It's too bad," Kate taunted me, "that you you don't have nipples like mine.... very sensitive."

She pinched each nipple a bit between her thumb and finger.

"When I play with them it sends a charge right down to my clit. My left one is a little more sensitive than my right one. It's the one I squeeze when I masturbate."

She began pinching and squeezing her left nipple and let one finger of her right hand slide up and down her pussy, bisecting it perfectly. When her face began to tighten some into a grimace of pleasure, she stopped and covered each bosom with a hand.

"You can continue now," she advised.

I did continue, somewhat haltingly, my recall a bit distracted.

"Rowena was now down to just her g-string. She began a lap dance, gyrating in front of me, turning around, bending over and wiggling her ass at me. She toyed with the g-string, giving me peeks at her pussy and bare ass, then covering it up."

Kate turned around on the couch. "Did she do it like this?" Kate pulled her own panties down, and wiggled her ass at me, and pulled her panties back up.

"Yes," I moaned out. "Then she began dancing wildly for me, her body writhing and undulating. Staring right at me, two or three feet away, she pulled her g-string up and down to flash her pussy some more at me. She pulled back and began dancing up a storm again, tossing her hair all around."

"Then she stopped and approached me slowly. She straddled my body, right over my cock. She lowered herself, until she was hovering her pussy inches from my cock, jauntily bouncing up and down a bit. Then she stood back up, straddling my head, and removed her g-string and tossed it away with a flourish."

Silently, Kate pulled off her own panties for me and flung them on the floor. The moment almost overwhelmed me. She was stripping away every image I had of her. I loved it. She was stripping away my image of her as prudish, as a woman who had become, after we married and after we had a baby, almost as puritanical as her own mother. She looked instead like the woman who first tempted the innocence out of me, who made me strip away my own sexual shyness and insecurity, a child of the Sixties and not the 1870s.

While I was thinking about her soul, she was daring me to eat her pussy...stroking it, spreading it open for me, making it wetter. My mind flooded over with memories. I still loved her. I loved her intelligence, her sensitivity, her sense of humor, her antic disposition...and the way we fucked every night, sometimes twice, when we first began dating. But the thought of my latent love for her made me feel uncomfortable. I hid it. I turned my attention back to sex. The erotic tension between us was so hot, so intense, neither of us could smile, neither of us could talk. She looked at me with some softness, some tenderness. It was beautiful. I felt the deep generosity of her gift of pussy. I wanted to say, "I love you," but I didn't. I just whispered, "Thank you."

I stood up before Kate and removed all my clothes. I had a skin hunger to hold her, to feel her touch, to feel her softness against me..... She saw that look in my eyes and distracted me back to my story.

"Go on with your story, Jim. I want to hear about you sucking cock."

These words started rolling in my mind the documentary film of my memories with Ben and Rowena that I had replayed so many times. I was back in erotic storytelling mode.

"Rowena told us to remove our last bit of clothes. They both looked at me. They wanted me to go first. I loved it. I felt highly sexual. I could feel their eyes on me....their desire to see my big cock. I did my own little striptease. I slipped my underpants off slowly. My cock popped out. I thrust my body up off the floor, flaunting my cock. They kept checking it out, and I was showing it off at every angle, posing my erection for their view like some bodybuilder his muscles. They were all smiles. It was strange. I felt like a teenage boy and a man at the same time. The teenage boy in me was showing my cock off. The man in me was the guy looking at a naked woman who would give him a fuck for the first time in his life. Ben then got naked. I looked at his cock. Oh my god, it felt so good, so natural: two cocks in exultation... and mine was bigger. I stared at his cock in joy, not guilt. It was as if Rowena had us all ready to dance around the maypole. I embraced my Swedish ancestry. It felt to me like we were having some midsummer pagan fertility rite--a celebration of cocks and cunt. Ben began stroking his cock. I did the same. We each showed off. We each stared. Both of us were exhibitionists and voyeurs. What fun! I had never felt more free in my life."

"Rowena cued up another tape....'Can't Get Enough of Your Love' by Bad Company. She began dancing for us, right in front of us, on the ground, rolling around, spreading open her legs, parting her pussy open for us and playing with herself. We were each masturbating as we watched. My mind tripped on thinking about guys watching sports on tv in homes across the nation and thinking they were having fun. My mind tripped on me thinking I was somewhere secret where no one ever expected me to be. My mind tripped on my mother's reaction if she knew what I was doing. My mind tripped on me losing the stigma of my virginity...on me feeling and fucking a pussy for the first time. My mind tripped on me having a "crush" on Rowena. When this song stopped, she uttered words I'll never forget. 'Now guys, it's your turn to play for me.'"

Kate looked at me in quiet, beautiful fascination. We were as naked and exposed to each other as I had been before Ben and Rowena. It was the first time in our lives I felt that we had ever been so openly, honestly naked with each other. While talking to Kate, I kept playing with my cock. In tandem, she started playing with herself, strumming her pussy and then slipping and sliding a finger in and out of her cunt. The two of us sat before each other, nude and open, revealing ourselves to each other in ways we had never done before. We were turning each other on with no embarrassment, no hesitation. We were showing each other what made us feel good. We were getting in such passionate heat exciting each other. It was more beautiful than any confession I had ever made of any secret. The joy of this feeling intensified my desires. I could see the temptation rise just as high in Kate. My mind started tripping on my love for her. But she averted her eyes.

"So, Jim, how'd you guys play together?"

"Ben was the first to grab my cock," I continued. "I then grabbed his. We fooled around some. Then I had to try him in my mouth. I began sucking and licking. In our correspondence, they wanted my assurance that I could be bi. I wanted to end their doubt....and I truly wanted to do unto another cock what I loved done unto mine."

Kate leaned forward. She moved slowly. She opened her lips. She took my cock inside her mouth and sucked lightly. I quivered.

"Did you do it like this?" she inquired.

"No," I told her. "I used my tongue more at first, giving it long licks from bottom to top."

Kate began giving my cock long licks from bottom to top.

"Then I swirled the tip of my tongue under the rim of his head before I began sucking his head, holding his cock at the base with one hand and caressing his balls with the other."

Kate swirled her tongue around me, sucked me, and caressed my balls.

"I began squeezing the head of his cock through my thumb and forefinger."

I showed Kate the motion, and she repeated it on me. She kept doing to my cock whatever I described I had done to Ben's. We kept playing this game. I became the producer, director, script writer and the male lead in my own x-rated movie on the art of cocksucking. I started embellishing the act, adding things I never did with Ben but that I wanted Kate to do to me.

"Sometimes I grabbed his cock between thumb and forefinger and pumped him quickly. Sometimes I just stroked him up the underside of his cock with a fingertip. I had his cock dancing at my touch."

Kate followed the script perfectly. She and I were driving me crazy. I was giving myself the best cocksucking I had ever received. And my cock was behaving itself wonderfully: it felt no strain to come. It had that wonderful "I can last forever" feel. But I wanted more buzz in it. I held Kate's head in my hands, ruffling up her hair.

"Hold tight," I said. I began fucking her mouth until I got the hum going in my cock. Then I slowed down and began feeding my cock to Kate in little suck-size pieces until the humming in my cock turned into a strong buzz.

"Oh my god, Kate, this feels so good. You are unbelievable tonight."

I pulled down my foreskin all the way on my uncircumcised cock and showed Kate the Achilles heel of a man's cock.....the place to deliver the coup de grace.....to bring it to its knees.....

"Well," I explained, "when I had Ben's cock pulsing and dancing, I went in for the kill. I stabbed at this little spot with the tip of my tongue and then played that little flap of skin with my pinky fingertip like a bow across violin strings, stroking downwards not across, legato speed."

Kate stabbed the spot with her tongue. She began playing it beautifully, lightly stroking the crease of skin with fingertip. I took this pleasuring for as long as I could stand it, right to the verge. When I felt one more stroke would tip me over, I pulled away. Kate had me ready to pop like a shaken up bottle of champagne, and she was getting off on it as well.

Kate looked at me, licking her lips, like the proverbial cat with feathers in its mouth. "So," she asked, eyeing me with an Eve-checking out-Adam-after-eating-the-apple-look, "did you like your adventure into cocksucking?"

"You know, Kate," I responded, "it was fun to play with his cock and suck it. It was very easy. I had been playing with my own cock for years. I knew what to do. I took him slowly, gently, caressing his balls as I licked and tongued him, gripping him ever more firmly as I apple-bobbed my head up and down on his cock, stopping every once and while to do the ice cream cone slurping swirl. I kept glancing at Rowena as I did this to Ben. She was taking herself with a small vibrator. Jesus Christ, did I ever feel lucky. I kept thinking no one who knew me would ever believe what I was doing. I had trouble believing it. But it was not a perfect fantasy."

"Why not?"

"Two words: premature ejaculation. As I played with Ben's cock, Rowena started giving my cock her attention, pumping it some. In my sexual naivete, I had not masturbated to climax in a week or ten days, thinking for some reason that that would be better for the sex. She had her hands on me for about 30 seconds before I came, spurting uncontrollably."

"Oh you poor boy," Kate giggled.

"No, I was very lucky. This led to my favorite moment of the night. Rowena captured some of my cum in her hands and then massaged me with it. Oh god, it was exquisite torture. She had me writhing in agony as she kept milking and massaging my cock. I couldn't contain myself. I started groaning and laughing at the same time. The two of them broke into laughter with me. Then Rowena did something beautiful. She put her arms around me, hugged me and gave me a kiss. Then they both embraced me, sandwiching me between them. It was beautiful solace. They loved it that I was so excited by Rowena."

Kate drew close to me on the couch and gave me a hug and stayed curled up next to me on my side of the couch. She reached down and grabbed my balls and began caressing them lightly, sometimes playing with my cock as well. Her caress of my balls felt like such beautiful encouragement to me.... and acceptance...and comfort.

"What happened next?"

"Oh the pleasures of youth. I was so excited, I rebounded fast. My cock started growing again in minutes. They saw it rise and suggested we go into their bedroom. A waterbed with dark maroon satin sheets took up most of the room. We dove in, with me in the middle. They both started playing with my cock. I let them go at it. It was amazing. I had barely ever had one pair of hands, one mouth on my cock, and now I had two. They played me beautifully, taking me up, time and again, to the verge of orgasm, then stopping. They called it 'torture' and it was."

"Now that sounds wonderful," Kate said "I always wanted you more submissive to me."

"Kate, I always dreamed of you taking me that way, but.... I guess I was too naive, too shy to ask. We never talked about such stuff. Oh, well...."

In truth, as I spoke, I thought to myself that Kate had never been keen on playing with my cock in foreplay whether it be hand our mouth. Manually, she was never that smooth, and orally, she did nothing special. Her pussy always felt so much better, so I preferred to spend as much time in there as possible. I also liked giving more than receiving. But tonight was amazing--a wonderful reciprocity between give and take. I wanted this night with Kate to go on forever. I felt like a male Scherherazade. I suspected that when my story ended, I would be alone again, driving home to my apartment. I kept talking, enhancing some details.

"They played with me for what seemed like hours. I kept mostly still, as if my hands and wrists had been tied down."

Kate shushed me. She began going down on me beautifully again, taking me with the legato rhythms of Rodrigo's "Concierto de Aranjuez." She took me back up to the verge with her mouth, and then let me coast down, lightly stroking me, and then she brought me back up. Oh my god, this swelling and cresting could have continued forever, never stopping, like the waves of an ocean. But I had more to say.

"Finally, Rowena put me out of my misery. She brought me to the verge with her mouth and then began pumping me quickly. When I began shooting, she just held me like a fire hose, my cock spraying its juices everywhere. I think some of my cum could have hit the ceiling. I had been masturbating for years, and I gave myself some pretty good orgasms, but this was probably the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced. Cum covered all three of us. I thought I wanted something to wipe myself off. Then we just began rubbing the cum into ourselves and into each other like sun tan oil. It felt good, like some rite of communion."

I had Kate so mesmerized, she stopped sucking on my cock. She just held on to it softly as I kept whispering to her.

"Rowena and Ben began kissing each other. Their kisses grew more passionate. I moved over to the side of the bed and they began making love. I loved watching them do it. They did it like a dance. Ben went down on Rowena for a long time. She kept rubbing her fingers through his hair.... looking over at me. She whispered for me to squeeze her nipple. I did....again and again and again. She soon tremored and shook in orgasmic pleasure. I had never seen or felt a woman orgasm before. It was so beautiful. It made Rowena look even prettier. Ben then entered her missionary style. Rowena stuck her legs straight up in the air. She had long legs. Ben knelt before her and took her holding onto each leg. It was glorious. I just focused on Rowena's face. Her breath quickened, her face tightened. She stopped breathing, and her face turned a deep red, with her mouth widening into an O, and then she exploded, crying out, her legs kicking into the air, her back arching up in triumph and then collapsing. It was glorious. When it was over, I felt like applauding. Ben pulled out still hard. Rowena went for his cock first. I followed. The two of us together made him cum. I did the swallowing. Rowena kissed me in thanks, wanting to taste her husband's cum on my lips. We all talked for a while, recovering. Ben left the room to smoke a cigarette, and Rowena gave me a beautiful, long kiss I loved that kiss. It was a little private secret between us. We started playing together, just the two of us. It got me up again. We might have been doing 69, with Rowena on top, when Ben came back into the room. He was content to watch. Rowena mounted me cowgirl style. She rode me beautifully for a long time, leaving me drained for the night." Kate looked at me with a competitive zeal in her eyes. As an athlete, I knew that look. "She rode me almost as good as you do," I added. "Or maybe better."
"Oh, you bastard," Kate exclaimed. "I'm going to make you eat those words."

She pushed me down on the couch, straddled me head, and gave me nothing but pussy, smearing her cunt into my face. She let me up for some air. I caught my breath. We had never fucked in the living room before.

I had to take her in her bed....in our old bed.

"We're going into the bedroom," I told her.

"Why?"

"I'm sentimental."

"Oh, no, Jim. Don't get your hopes up. This is it. This is a one time deal."

"Ok, then," I said, trying to hide my disappointment. "Get in your bed and spread open. I'm going to make it good."

I had never felt such a primal need to take a woman. She started walking to the bedroom. My eyes followed her ass as if she was showing it off like a baboon in heat. I stopped off in the kitchen for a drink of water. Not just my cock, but my whole body seemed charged up, pulsing. I came into the bedroom. The lights were out. She was lying back on the bed, covers and sheet pulled down, her legs open, waiting for me, following my every move with her eyes. I knew where she kept her stuff. I found candles in the top drawer of her bureau and lit them. I found one of our old tubes of lubricant and slicked up my cock with it, taking my time, as my eyes tried to record into long term memory this sight of her nude. She appeared so softened and wanton, sprawled out, long hair mussed up and balled up in back, with even her pussy fur looking messed up, in need of a brush and comb, her legs spread a bit, wanting more. I never felt more like a man in my life.

I grabbed hold of each of her ankles. I lifted her legs high and spread them wide apart. Holding open her legs in this V shape and staring down at the V shape of her vagina made me feel so cockstrong. She had been fucked by another man, but now her pussy was reconquered territory, and I was ready to plant my flag. This rising up of my male rooster ego almost embarrassed me. I thought I should be more romantic. The look in Kate's eyes persuaded me differently. The way she gazed at me--the way she was offering herself to me--made me wonder if I could make her come with my stare. I let my cock graze against her loin. She quivered at the touch. As I trailed my cock down her loin, she shut her eyes, then covered up her face in her hands.

I rested my cock on her pussy, like a priest placing the wafer of communion on an extended tongue. She arched back, a rainbow before me. I began teasing her with the tip of my cock, letting it explore up and down her slit area as if it was lost or confused and did not know where to go. I nudged it along her slit a bit and let it snuggle up against her clit. I bounced the head of my cock up and down against her pussy, an x-rated game of pitty-pat. I contemplated penetrating her slightly, a half inch, and then plunging deep inside, up to the hilt. Instead, I just pulled her hips to the edge of the bed, got down on my knees and began taking her with a slow tongue, my hands reaching up and squeezing her nipples at the same time, making her restless for more pleasure.

Under my tongue, Kate started squirming, writhing, moaning. I buried my face in her cunt. I couldn't see her face. I didn't need to look. I didn't want to look. I just wanted my own face full of her surrendered, moist cunt. She began thrusting her clit up into my tongue, begging me to me more direct. Kate loved coming by oscillating her cunt in quick motions as I held my tongue still, and I felt her on the verge of doing so. She wanted fortissimo. But I gave her pianissimo, slowing my tongue's movements almost to a standstill, suspending her on the edge, not allowing her to jump off and soar....until she had climbed higher up. I placed a hand against her waist to keep it still, and I entered her with one finger, then two, slowly stroking high up against her inside wall, stimulating her spongy g-spot. My fingers went deep into her and came back gently, curling back against her spongy area in the "come hither" motion. My fingers kept diving down into her, fathoming her fully, spelunking and exploring, and then I entered her with four fingers and moved them freely back and forth, like pushing the extra cushions and pillows on a bed out of the way, making room for a man inside of her.

I had Kate in the palm of my hand, undulating around my middle two fingers. I then went back to just one finger, the longest, and caressed the little cumulus cloud of her spongy g-spot like a rain god wanting to create a thunderstorm. Her cunt responded to it like an orchestra to a conductor's baton. The strings were giving way to the percussion instruments. She was ready to crescendo, her clit to sing its aria, but I had to take her with thick cock, not a thin finger. I flipped her over onto all fours. I pulled her ass closer to me and split open her cheeks. I grabbed each side of her ass, holding her firm, and then entered her with one slow, sure move, molding my hips into the dough of her ass. She gasped and let out a whimper that escalated into a whiskey throated moan. She was ready to come, but I wasn't, and I wanted her to wait. Instead of picking up the pace, I slowed it down, and I began fucking her in small increments, first drawing my cock almost all the way out and then penetrating her slowly, like honey sliding off a spoon and flowing into hot tea, making sure she appreciated my thickness. I then picked up the tempo with a rhythmic, steady in and out until she was back scaling up the octaves of orgasm, my hands grabbing onto whatever soft flesh I could find so I could pull her into me more tightly on each forward thrust.

Near the peak of her scale, I thrust hard into her, picking up both ankles, tilting her forward, fucking her strong, taking her deep, feeling her toes wiggle in my hands. I let go of her feet and drove her off all fours, until she was lying flat on her face, with her ass propped up just a bit, and then, sprawled over her, I fucked her as if I was trying to drive her through the mattress. I started coming but did not stop to enjoy it. I just kept fucking her like crazy until she burst into a long, agonizing, ecstatic cry...the cresting and crashing waves of her orgasm overwhelming mine, tossing my cock about like an upended surfer. Spread over her, skin everywhere against skin, I could feel the orgasmic waves ripple and undulate up through her body, and I tightened my grip on her, wanting her to feel my strength as a man as I tried to feel all of her strength as a woman, my body her shock absorber, a ground for her electric charge, her source of comfort and joy.

She moved almost imperceptively to get closer to me. It felt so natural. In quiet, on top of her, we kissed and kissed. The first words I spoke to her were simple, "I still love you." Several months later we reconciled. We had two more children.